Then, with Joe helping and in imminent danger of upsetting the boat, he managed to drag the stranger to the side of the craft.
The fellow was a dead weight, for he had lapsed into unconsciousness when Frank seized him, but somehow they contrived to get him into the boat, and there he lay, sprawled helplessly, more dead than alive.
"We'd better get him to shelter some place and revive him," said Joe. "We can't do much for him here."
"How about that farmhouse down the bay?"
"The very place. Where is it?"
They finally located the farmhouse, a snug little building back off the main road some distance down the bay. It meant considerable rowing, but there was a life at stake.
The blazing motorboat near by was a roaring mass of flames. Then it began to sink beneath the waves. There was a great hissing sound and a heavy cloud of steam as the craft sank lower and lower into the water, its blazing embers blackening to the touch of the sea. Swiftly, at last, the boat disappeared. Its stern seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then it slid quickly down into the waves and the only trace was a widening pool of oil and scattered wreckage on the surface of the water.
But the Hardy boys were too busy to give more than passing notice to the spectacle.
